Sic Semper Tyrannis
by camillexelisabeth
Summary: Hadrian wanted nothing more than to be a part of this cruel sport. But after tragedy separates what is left of his family and nearly drives him to madness, can he muster the strength to fight for his life? Or even the strength to love?
1. The Letter

[_**A/N**_]: Y'all... this is proof of the fact that I am the world's worst procrastinator. This story was supposed to be for NaNoWriMo... but that crashed and burned.

Anyway, I'll do the major explaining at the end of this first chapter so please enjoy my first long original fiction piece. And if you tell me to move it to FictionPress, I'll eat your babies. Much love, *heart.*

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><p><em>Chapter One: The Letter<em>

_**Sic Semper Tyrannis**_

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><p>It was bitterly cold that afternoon and my tunic did little to protect me from the wind. I was running to deliver a letter all the way from New Rome itself back to the gladiators' commune.<p>

The letter was printed on a stiff scroll stamped with the imperial seal. It wasn't very heavy at all, but for some reason, it weighed a ton in my hands.

They were all waiting for me at the gate, the gladiators. Most of them were twice my size and had more muscle than an ox, but I wasn't scared of any of them. They were like my big brothers, some like my second fathers.

My real father ran out to greet me, but remained silent as he took the letter from my hands and scanned the words. After a few long moments, his face paled.

"Hadrian," he said, his voice strained, "go inside and warm up." Although his tone was soft and kind, I could hear the firm command in it. He never did lose that centurion clip.

I nodded shortly and hurried inside as quickly as I could, and bumped straight into my sister, Claudia.

"Hadrian!" she exclaimed, taking in my shivering form and lack of warm clothing. "You're going to die from exposure one of these days." She was beginning to sound more and more like our mother.

"Claudia, I'll be fine. I just had to run across town to pick up a letter, that's all," I said, shrugging off her concern.

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You ran all the way across town in just your tunic... in this weather?"

I pushed past her into the warmth. "It gets hot while I'm running," I explained innocently.

She rolled her eyes. "So that's why you're shivering, right?" she asked skeptically.

I was just about to snap back when Mother walked in the kitchen. "Claudia hush. The boy will do what he wants, regardless of the wise choice." She smiled and tossed me an apple. "Now go warm up young man, before you lose your toes."

I sat by the fire and took a bite of the apple. I could hear Mother and Claudia behind me gathering up dinner, and Julius in the next room reciting in Latin. He was absolutely determined to learn the language of our ancestors, the Romans, and the language used by all Imperial Officials. Julius wanted to be a Senator.

Of course who was I to tell him otherwise. Let him dream, father always said. The son of a gladiator, a deserter no less, becoming a Senator of the New Roman Empire? Impossible. No amount of reciting Latin could help him.

I, on the other hand, wanted exactly what I was destined for: a life in the Colosseum. Julius always detested our life in the commune. I loved it. I loved the clash of swords and armor, the way the men trained all year long, competed against each other twice a month, all for the glory of our Local Munera.

Father never won these Games, though we all knew he was more than capable. He had once been a centurion in the Imperial Legions, until he deserted. He had met a woman, a slave, while on short-term duty in the city of New Rome, and fallen in love with her. So they ran away together.

Claudia loved hearing the story, even if it had a sad ending. My father and his beautiful slave were caught, charged as traitors, and sent away to live here, in this small frozen town, far north of New Rome. My father was sentenced to a life as a gladiator, but his lover was not so fortunate; she was sentenced to execution.

But just days before her crucifixion, it was discovered that she was pregnant. The Imperial Official ruled that since the baby was innocent, the woman could not be executed until the child was out of her care.

Father did all he could to protect his beautiful slave and their precious child. They were hastily married and a space for them was cleared at the commune.

And so my parents became the first married couple to live in the commune, and the innocent child was spared.

But as touching as the story was, and despite the fact that I am alive because of it, I could never bring myself to sympathize with it. How could my father throw away his life as a centurion for a woman? The only thing I wanted more than to win the Munera was to be in the Imperial Legions. But because of my birth, I could never be anything more than a gladiator. I learned only one thing from that story: I would never throw my life away for a woman.

I was roused from my musing by the sound of my father coming through the door. When I turned to greet him, I was shocked by his expression. I'd never seen his face quite like that, so somber and sunken. I'd seen that look on the faces of defeated gladiators.

My mother pulled her close and looked deeply at him, but he refused to meet her gaze. I imagined she'd seen that face once before, when they were caught.

He shook his head and pushed past her into the back room. She followed hum and silenced a question from Julius.

Claudia cocked an eyebrow. "What do you think that was all about?" she asked.

Julius shrugged. "Could be anything. Who knows?" he said. "Maybe they've finally found someone willing to marry you."

Claudia threw something at him from across the room and narrowly missing her twin. "You know I can't marry," she said angrily and stomped back into the kitchen.

I turned to a laughing Julius and gave him a shove. "You shouldn't tease her like that," I scolded. Claudia was especially sensitive about her inability to marry.

Julius rolled his eyes and set down his Latin scroll. "Well we can't marry either," he said defensively.

"Yes, but neither of us really want to get married. Claudia is a fourteen year old girl. Of course she can't help but want to have a husband." As children of a gladiator and a former slave, we were prohibited by law from marriage.

Julius just shrugged but his eyes quickly got wide. "What do you think the letter is really about?" he asked.

I pondered it for a moment and grabbed the Latin scroll off the table. I studied the words, though I couldn't make sense of any of them. "What's this about?" I asked, not looking up.

Julius gave me a skeptical look, but when I glanced up, he answered, "It's about this man, Spartacus was his name. He led a rebellion, back in the days of Old Rome. I'm not even sure if this is authorized reading material. I found it in Father's trunk."

"How does it end?" I asked, staring back down at the scroll.

"I haven't finished translating it yet," he said quietly and softly took the scroll back from me.

His movement snapped me out of my thoughts and I grabbed my cloak from the wall, and pushed through the doorway. "I'm going to find out what the letter is about. Cover for me," I said before leaving quietly.

Out in the cold, the commune was eerily silent. All the doors were closed tight, but I roamed the covered pathways alone, my footsteps echoing loudly.

"Hadrian!" someone whispered and I whipped around. It was Alexander, peaking out his door. He was only seventeen, a second year gladiator. He was the son of an Imperial Official living in town, but he became a gladiator by choice, much against his father's wishes.

"Alexander," I returned, surprised to see him out.

He glanced around and rushed towards me, pulling his cloak tighter around his frame. "Hadrian," he said again, this time softer. He seemed winded, and though he was shivering, hid body was dripping with sweat. "Hadrian, this is awful!" he whispered.

"What? Tell me!" I begged, gripping his shoulders tightly.

Alexander's eyes welled up with tears and he took a quick breath in. "The letter... it said... I don't believe it, Hadrian, I just don't. But your father said it was signed by the Emperor Thaddeus himself!"

"Alexander just tell me!" I said urgently.

"It said... well it's a new set of rules for the Munera," he whispered.

My eyes widened at the implication. "Alexander..." I paused taking a deep breath before continuing. "What are the new rules?"

Alexander shut his eyes tight and a tear rolled down his cheek, rising and falling with the old scars on such a young face. His voice was shaking harshly as he said, "It's just one new rule." He paused for a moment and pressed his hand heavily onto my shoulder. "All fights in this year's Local Munera must be to the death."

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><p>[<em><strong>AN**_]: Confused? Yeah me too. Don't worry, I'm here.

So there's this boy named Hadrian. And he's the main character. Duh.

His dad is a gladiator.

They live in a future society modeled after Rome, called the New Roman Empire.

The Munera are the gladiatorial games that are held in each town of the empire.

And don't worry, the rest will be explained in the next few chapters.

Thanks for reading, and please review.

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><p><em>Regards,<em>

_Camille Elisabeth_


	2. Run

[_**A/N**_]: Hiii (: informing the world that I'm happy!

But enough about me, please enjoy the chapter. AND REVIEW AT THE END. Kthxbai.

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><p><em>Chapter Two: Run<em>

_**Sic Semper Tyrannis**_

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><p>Days passed slowly and quietly in the commune now. There was no clash of metal, no sounds of fighting.<p>

A damp chill had settled upon our town and it held until my birthday, when our first snowfall brought a little joy. Mother had put together a small celebration, and the entire commune was invited. Even under this heavy cloud of gloom, the men found their smiles and put on their best tunics. I was finally sixteen.

In New Rome, and maybe some of the richer towns, turning sixteen would earn me a lavish celebration with many gifts, and if I was high enough on the social ladder, it would last for days, and I would be presented to the upper class.

But here in the far northern Inner Provinces, we had much simpler celebrations. All that awaited me on this special night was a small dinner with a few gifts. Nothing too exciting, but I couldn't have asked for more.

The day began at dawn when my father woke me. Our only task all day was to make my gladius, the extension of my arm. We were finally making my sword. In reality, we had been working for weeks on it, but since the task was really only ceremonial, we would finish it that night, right before my feast.

The metal rod that was beginning to greatly resemble a sword turned bright red in the fire, and our hammers rang out loudly in the quiet morning. We were silent through the whole day, reveling in what might very well be my last day in my father's house. At the age of sixteen, every child, male or female, was considered an adult and was eligible to be sent to either work in another town or allowed to stay in their own town. Most likely I would stay, but if another town was lacking in gladiators, I had to go.

But I tried not to think about leaving as my father and I hammered away at my gladius. Let those foul thoughts wait for the morning. Right now I focused solely on the task at hand. A gladius is a right of passage in New Rome. Every man has one, but only gladiators or legionaries would ever have a real use for them. Even so, they are seldom used in actual combat. A man's gladius is sacred.

I slipped the glowing metal into cold water for a final time, and steam rose up around us, warming the frigid air. I held it up to the light, examining it closely. The blade was finally done. I carefully fitted the simple handle onto the end of the sword and my father took it from me, weighing it in his hands, before gingerly giving it back.

My gladius was complete.

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><p>My father smiled proudly at me and said, "Hadrian... my oldest son. You have been a blessing since the day you saved your mother's life, and you keep bringing us joy every single day." My father raised his glass of wine and nodded at me. "Always remember who you were named for."<p>

All the men drank to my health, and as tradition called for, drank to Julius who would follow me. In these good times, even Julius and Claudia were also allowed a small cup of wine, and though Julius drank his in about two gulps, Claudia slowly sipped at hers, savoring the taste. I was allowed as many glasses as I could hold, but I tried to drink as few as possible. Wine was hard to come by in the commune, and I wanted to make sure that there was more than enough to go around.

The whole party greatly surpassed my expectations, much to my surprise. Mother had combed her blonde hair up into a loose bun and as the night progressed, strands of it fell out into small curls. And with the way the firelight danced off her blue eyes, it was easy to see why my father had fallen in love with her. Claudia looked very much like her, down to the slight greenish tint to her light blue eyes. It really was a shame that she couldn't marry. She was already beautiful.

Julius also looked quite like Mother, with his sandy hair and wide eyes. But instead of the blue color that Claudia and I held, his eyes were a rich chocolate brown, the mirror image of our father's. But the resemblance stopped there. Julius and Claudia didn't have the look of the Empire about them. They looked like Mother, like they were from the Outer Provinces of even farther north. I, despite my sandy hair and blue eyes, looked too much like my father, a real Roman, to ever be considered from the Provinces.

My hands found the glass of wine blindly and I took a large gulp. It was warm and tingled on the way down, filling my mouth with the rich taste. I savored it, craving more. Alexander spotted me staring at the empty cup and grabbed a bottle, filling my cup back to the top.

"I don't want to drink all of the wine," I said under my breath, but Alexander merely laughed.

"Hadrian, it's your birthday! Drink the wine," he said loudly and poured himself another cup as well.

I sipped on this glass for quite a while, trying my best to enjoy it slowly, and I was barely half way through when Father called for attention. It was time to present me with my gladius.

I could see his hands trembling as he held it up above me. But when I took it, I made sure to keep my hands still and even, showing no hesitation. In just these simple moments, I had become a man.

All the men had pooled together to get me my own leather armor, fit for the arena. Claudia and my mother had made me a new cloak and Julius had fashioned a small pin to go along with it. But the best gift was from my father, who came last, with a small package wrapped in brown paper. I carefully tore it open and gaped at what sat in my lap.

My father had given me his corona aurea, the one thing he had brought with him from his centurion days. It was presented to him by Emperor Thaddeus himself after my father's legion had won a particularly lengthy battle. It was quite an honor to be awarded with this, the golden crown. I knew he cherished it more than any other possession.

But he just smiled slightly at me as the small crowd around me grew hushed at the sight of my father's crown, or rather, my crown now.

"Hadrian," my father began, and patted my back. "I have said far too many words tonight, but as your father, I must say these: I love you."

I couldn't help it, I stood up suddenly and threw my arms around him, something I hadn't done in years. He seemed a bit shocked at first, but quickly returned the hug. He was warm and still smelled of dirt and leather, the same as when I was a child.

The rest of the party passed quickly, as it was getting late and the men needed their rest. The only thing that could damper the celebratory mood was the horror that would begin in the morning.

The Local Munera began tomorrow.

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><p>Father still hadn't told Julius and Claudia about the new rule, and in reality, he hadn't told me either. But I knew and he was well aware.<p>

It scared me, terrified me, that very soon my father would be pitted against his best friends, forced to kill them. Or be killed by them. That morning the whole place was tense. The men spoke in soft whispers and didn't sharpen swords. The commune was eerily silent.

The first match was to be held at noon, and the Colosseum was quickly filled to the brim with townspeople hungry for blood. My father turned to us, our family huddled in the gladiators' quarters, and pulled us close.

"I love you all," he whispered softly. "If I do not come back—"

"What do you mean if you don't come back?" Julius asked, interrupting Father abruptly.

His eyes were sad as he placed a hand on Julius's shoulder. "This Munera is different, more like the games in New Rome. But that's not important anymore. What's important is that you all remember what I've taught you."

Julius's face was suddenly blank, but Claudia's was horror stricken. Silent tears ran down her cheeks and fell onto the dirt beneath our feet. "Father..." she whispered. "Do you really have to—?" Her voice cracked and I pulled her into an embrace just as she began sobbing. I stroked her golden hair and wiped the tears from her face.

"You taught us to always be strong," I said, still cradling Claudia.

Mother grasped Father's shoulders suddenly and looked steadily at him. I would have expected her to be crying as well, but her eyes were fierce. "You don't have to do this," she said boldly.

Father smiled and kissed her softly. "I know," he whispered. A sudden thought must have occurred to him because his head snapped towards us. "Augusta, please take the children home. I don't want them to see this." There was that centurion voice, thinly veiled by a soft tone.

Mother nodded shortly and grasped Julius's and Claudia's hands, pulling them towards our house. I turned to follow, but my father held fast onto my arm. "Hadrian, please never let them go," he whispered urgently. "Take care of them. And whatever you do, do not let my brother have them."

I nodded, shocked by the whole situation, my father's death sentence, my mother's calmness, and this new command. Why would we have to worry about this uncle if Mother would still be here? None of it made sense.

But of course I had to ask the most obvious, and most pointless, question. "You have a brother?"

My father laughed slightly and pulled me into an embrace. "There was once, in the days of Old Rome, an emperor named Hadrian. He built a wall that marked the northernmost borders of the vastest empire in history." He paused to look at me and smiled. "This man, Hadrian, was known as one of the five Good Emperors of Rome. He was cultured, well traveled, won many battles, and conquered many lands."

My eyes were suddenly brimming with tears. "Why are you telling me this?" I asked, my voice cracking slightly.

And then the announcer called out, loud and clear, "Welcome to the Local Munera! The first fight today will be between Marcus Aurelius and Brutus Maximus!"

My father turned to me, eyes blazing, and pulled me into a tight embrace. "My little Hadrian, bring back what Rome was," he whispered.

And just like that, my father, the brave Marcus Aurelius, walked into the sandy Colosseum without turning back. I could hear the shouts of the people above in the stands, practically begging for my father's blood. And then I heard another voice screaming, full of agony and pain, like someone was wrenching his heart out with their bare hands. My knees hit the dirt and I gasped for air as my screaming stopped. But when I fell over onto my side, the sobbing took its place.

I closed my eyes and imagined, just for a moment, that this was all a dream, all a rouse, that my father would come running back in laughing, telling me it was just a joke. But I was pulled back into harsh reality but someone hoisting me to my feet and pushing me away. I stumbled and turned to face the offender. Alexander stood just steps away from me.

"Go," he whispered. But when I didn't move, or even say a word, he stepped towards me. "Run!" he screamed. "Run, Hadrian!"

His urgency scared me and I began stumbling backwards, and then took off at a sprint. I passed my home and the gates of the commune. The town was almost empty; everyone was busy watching my father die. I kept running until I hit the woods. My lungs were on fire but I hardly noticed. I just kept running.

But eventually my legs gave out from under me and I fell to my knees. I could hardly breathe, and my sobbing sounded more like choking as my lungs tried to scream once more.

"You should probably get back home, you know," a voice said from behind me. I was too broken and exhausted to muster the strength to turn around but I tried to quiet my cries.

"Who..." my voice wouldn't form words.

Footsteps in the leaves approached me and I could hear her breath as she knelt beside me. "There's a Senator in town," she whispered. "They say his name is Titus Aurelius."

I tried to push myself up out of the dirty leaves and melting snow, but my arms could barely support me. The girl pulled me over to a tree and propped me up. I could finally see her face.

"I know you," I said softly, shocked to find those familiar green eyes staring at me.

She looked a bit surprised too, but quickly contained it. "You should probably be getting back home," she repeated.

"Why?" I asked, my voice rough and hoarse.

She pulled me to my feet and did her best to support some of my weight with her shoulders. "Because," she said again, "there's a Senator in town. And he seems quite interested in your family, namely your brother and sister."

Titus Aurelius... that name... my name, Aurelius. _My father's brother._

A small choking sound escaped my mouth and I was off running again, sprinting back home. I could hear the girl behind me, trying to keep pace with me, but she struggled. "Hadrian!" she screamed, making futile attempts to grab my shoulder.

But I just kept running and eventually she fell so far behind that I couldn't even hear her footsteps anymore. In their place were more familiar sounds, the sounds even a town occupied with blood makes.

I was back into the gates and around the corridors, finally stopping at our house, bursting in, and finding silence.

"Julius!" I screamed. "Claudia!"

But no answer.

My legs threatened to give out again but I refused to fall useless. I was out and into the commune, headed towards the Colosseum. And then it hit me, just how quiet the place was.

Footsteps echoed behind me and the girl's breathless voice said, "They're in the Forum."

This time, she kept up well enough. And when we reached the Forum, I suddenly realized where all the noise had gone. The people were screaming, still crying out for blood. A man dressed in a white toga with purple borders stood on the steps of one of the temples, above the raging crowd. With just a raised hand, he silenced them.

"Do not fret over these prisoners. Soon we will have a whole new shipment of gladiators to replace these!" he announced and the crowd reacted just the way he had hoped— with excitement.

I moved around through the throngs of people, the girl still trailing me, and tried my best to remain unnoticed. At this distance, I recognized the man. He was the Imperial Official assigned to this town, Cornelius Agrippa. He was a particularly nasty little man, greedy without remorse and unnaturally cruel to all who weren't within or above his social ranking. Rumor had it that he had once been in the favor of Emperor Thaddeus, but after a few scandals involving the emperor's favorite mistress and a couple million missing sesterces, he was banished to the last of the Inner Provinces. And if he didn't watch his step, the frozen Outer Provinces of Britannia were not far. He was just one stolen silver coin away.

Cornelius smiled brightly at the crowd, holding up his arm, pointing to something. That's when I noticed them, all the men plus one, lined up against the walls of the temple. "These traitors have rebelled against the Empire in their refusal to fight! So let us show them how the Empire treats traitors!"

The crowd exploded with agreement, and Cornelius grabbed one of the men. It was Alexander, so young and naive. But he didn't look young anymore. He was covered in sand and blood, hands shackled behind his back, but still he held his head high. With a flick of his wrist, Cornelius pushed him into the crowd, and he was consumed by angry shouts and fists.

I cried out and lurched towards him, but the girl held me back. "You'll get trampled to death!" she shouted as she struggled to keep a firm grip.

But what finally sedated me was not the girl's hands, but the next two prisoners. My father and mother stood proudly before the crowd, looking beyond us into the sky. Cornelius gripped their arms tightly and shook them harshly. "This man, Marcus Aurelius, and his wife, Augusta, are the rebel leaders! I have orders from Senator Titus Aurelius himself to publicly crucify them."

I found myself slipping onto the ground, but the girl caught me. The crowd roared around us in approval and she began pulling me back, but when Cornelius again called for silence, I screamed, screamed so loud I could hardly hear myself. It was that same scream that shook my body earlier, gut wrenchingly painful.

The hush that had settled over the crowd was broken by whispers.

"The boy!"

"His son!"

"The same face..."

When my voice finally gave out, I found myself staring at my father, my chest heaving. I sank to my knees and gasped for air, but kept my gaze locked.

"Run," he mouthed, but I didn't move. "Run!" he finally shouted desperately. "Hadrian run, please run!" But I stayed firmly where I was.

"I won't leave you," I said, lurching to my feet and through the parting crowd. But before I could reach my parents, a rough hand seized me and pulled me back. It was a legionary. He drew his sword and held it against my throat.

"What shall I do with the boy?" he asked, addressing Cornelius.

The evil little man's face broke into a cruel smile and I closed my eyes, waiting to feel the cold steel slicing into my skin. But instead, I heard him say, "Let him live. He is sixteen after all. Perhaps he shall make an acceptable gladiator."

My father's head fell and I saw his tears hitting the marble beneath him. I broke the legionary's grasp and rushed towards my parents.

My father looked at me and smiled weakly. "I am so sorry for this life I have forced upon you. Stay strong, Hadrian."

My mother leaned her head against my shoulder and placed a light kiss on my cheek. "I love you," she whispered.

I didn't even have time to respond before we were pulled apart. But just before a gag was put over my father's mouth, he shouted, "Bring Rome back, Hadrian, bring back the glory!"

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><p>I didn't see the girl again before they threw me into a cold cell.<p>

I don't know how many days passed; I lost track. All I knew was that on the second day of my imprisonment, from the only tiny window in my cell, I could see the hill upon which my parents were crucified. I didn't even have the strength to scream anymore, I just hoped my silent tears would drown me. After that day, I stopped counting how many sunsets I saw.

Until finally, one particularly cold night, someone threw a blanket between the bars of my cell. I had been huddled in the corner, trying to keep warm. I cautiously inched towards the blanket, like a wild animal approaching a trap.

And then the first words that had been spoken to me since my father's echoed through the cell. "Hadrian," the girl whispered, throwing her hood back.

I grasped her cloak, pulling her up against the bars. "Where are my brother and sister?" I demanded. Her green eyes went from sympathetic to scared and I let go, pushing farther back into the cell. "I'm sorry," I mumbled.

It was her hands that found my shirt this time and pulled me closer. "With the Senator, Titus Aurelius. They left for New Rome three days ago. He claimed to be your father's brother."

My heart sank. I had failed my father and allowed Julius and Claudia to fall into my uncle's hands. I sank down to the ground and looked up at the girl. She quickly joined me, gazing at me through the bars, brows knitted in thought.

"Who are you?" I asked. I had seen her around town before, but never spoke with her. She always wore a long white toga, the dress of the upper class. She was wearing one now, with her dark hair pulled up in a loose bun, just like my mother's once was.

She looked away. "You will hate me if I tell you," she whispered.

My hand reached out to touch her, to reassure her, but she drew back hesitantly. "Why?"

She sighed and pulled her cloak tighter around her body. After a long moment, she met my eyes again. "My name is Sutton Agrippa," she said, holding my gaze.

Agrippa... impossible! She looked nothing like little bald Cornelius with his beady eyes and cruel snarl. But when I looked closely, I noticed her features were distinctly those of the Empire. High cheek bones, dark hair, olive skin. The only thing Provincial about her were those green irises.

She broke my gaze and stood up. "I told you that you would hate me," she said softly and turned to leave, but I grabbed her shoulder and spun her back around.

"Sutton," I said carefully, enunciating every syllable. "I don't hate you."

She stared at me sadly and said, "I'm so sorry, Hadrian. My father won't ever listen to a word I say. I begged him to spare your parents and the others, begged. But he refused." Tears were building up in her eyes and I wiped them away with my thumb.

"It wasn't your fault," I said shakily, because my eyes were threatening to spill over too. I couldn't blame her for the death of my parents just because of her father. "Why did you come?" I asked softly.

She pulled away from my hand and steadied her voice. "I wanted to tell you my plan." She paused in thought for a moment before continuing. "What your father said, you know, about bringing Rome back. That really got me thinking. Hadrian, I want you to compete in the Local Munera and win. Go to New Rome and show them what your father wanted. Make them remember."

I just stared at her, astounded by this idea. There was no away I could win the Local Munera. I had planned on dying within the first round. But suddenly the idea began to stick and hope seized my heart.

Sutton quickly backtracked, taking my silence for rejection. "But of course, you don't have to. I just thought... you know, since all fights are to the death now... and you dying would be... oh, never mind," she said and backed even further away.

"No!" I said, shocking her. "I think... I think it could work."

A small smile crept onto her face, and for the first time since I had known her, her eyes lit up. "Then you better get training, gladiator."

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><p>[<em><strong>AN**_]: Yeah, I went there.

I really, really loved Hadrian's parents, and especially Alexander, even if he wasn't a major character at all, but some things are just essential to the plot, you know.

Anyway, please please please drop a review and let me know how you like it. Or hate it, if that's the case. I do love reviews.

Thanks for reading, y'all.

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><p><em><strong>Regards,<strong>_

_**Camille Elisabeth**_


	3. Hope

[**_A/N_**]: SUP. I love everyone that has read and reviewed this so far. Thanks y'all!

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><p><em>Chapter Three: Hope<em>

**_Sic Semper Tyrannis_**

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><p>After Sutton left me that night, it only took two days for me to be released. I suppose she had a little more influence over her father than she thought.<p>

I was sent back to the commune to live in my old house. But it was too quiet and empty for me to enjoy my freedom again, or what little I had. I wasn't even allowed to leave the commune.

Just a few days after I arrived back home, men began to show up. One or two of them were townsmen who volunteered, but most of them looked like trained gladiators. I had a lot of work to do.

Today, the last of this new shipment of gladiators finally walked through the gates. They were absolutely terrifying. All of them had at least ten years and a hundred pounds on me, not to mention probably a lifetime of training. All I had was my gladius and leather armor, which was nothing compared to what these men had. Metal breastplates and long sharp swords, tridents and nets, hammers with huge spikes on each end. My hope was fading fast. But I kept training with my gladius and leather armor, praying that it would be enough.

When the long day was finally over, I settled next to the fire, warming a small cup of tea and gnawing on some bread. During the day, I was able to block out the memories of this house, of my family, of that day. But here, sitting in our main room all by myself, no sounds of any life besides myself, I was haunted by the memories.

A sound roused me from these dark musings. I brushed it off to be the wind howling through the covered pathways. But just as I took a scalding sip of tea, Sutton dropped into the room through the window. I jumped about a foot and nearly spilled tea everywhere.

"Where the hell did you come from?" I asked, setting the cup down. She was covered in a thin layer of frost and snowflakes, and her shivering might have made the whole room shake.

"The upper quarter," she said through chattering teeth.

I steered her towards the fire and after handing her my tea, I pulled her frozen cloak off and draped my dry one over her body. It took a few minutes for her to warm up, but once she did, she began to look around.

"Is this where you and your family used to live?" she asked, gazing at the room.

I nodded and sat next to her. "It's too big now," I said quietly and stared into the fire.

She must have noticed that I had pulled my bed into the main room and set it in the corner because she asked, "Do you sleep in here?"

"No matter how much wood I burn, this is the only room that holds any warmth," I answered. The house had never been this cold when everyone was still here, even on the darkest of winter nights.

Sutton set the cup down and glanced over at me. "You know, you could just leave. Run away and never come back. You could go to Britannia and find your mother's people. She was from Britannia, right? Just run away, Hadrian." She was practically begging me to leave.

I sighed and shook my head. "Everyone who told me to run has died. Please don't tell me to run. You're the only person I have left. I'm not running anymore," I said softly.

In the silence that followed, I refused to meet her gaze. My face was burning red at the confession that I considered her my only friend. I didn't even know her that well. She just found me having a breakdown in the woods.

But as I was beating myself up for sounding creepy, she placed a hand on my back. "Then stay," she whispered, leaning closer to me.

But I pulled away slightly and she stopped, taking her hand off my back. I knew this was just me being lonely, and I couldn't risk hurting her. What if I did end up dying? Best that she loses a friend rather than a lover. But why would she want me anyway? I had seen her with some of the most prominent and wealthy boys in town and here I was, the lowly orphaned son of a gladiator and a slave. Maybe I was just reading too much into all of this. She wanted to make the Empire a better place to live, and I was just an opportunity.

So I kept the distance between us and she settled back into her original position. "I don't have many people either," she said after a few minutes of silence. I turned to give her a questioning glance and found her steadily gazing at me. "My mother is very ill. She's like a little child. I love her and she loves me, but I'm like her mother; it's always been this way. And my father... well, you know my father. He cares little for either of us." She glanced down at her hands and then back up at me. "We had to move here when I was twelve. My father had been laundering money and I'm sure you've heard rumors of what else he did." I nodded and she laughed slightly. "But it's okay, because I like it better here. Less rules and social expectations."

I took advantage of her slight paused and asked, "How so?"

She shrugged. "The most obvious is clothing. You know how here I just wear a plain stola?" I nodded. Even now, she was wearing her signature white dress. "In New Rome, I would be required to wear a fancier stola as well as a palla."

I cocked my head to the side and asked, "What's a palla?" I had never heard of such things. "They sound painful."

Sutton laughed, loud and erratic. "Hadrian," she said, gasping for air. "It's just a kind of cloak, draped over my stola." I managed a slight smile and Sutton pulled my cloak tighter around her shoulders. "Your smile doesn't reach your eyes anymore," she mumbled sadly.

"Huh?" I asked and turned to her.

She blushed and cleared her throat. "You just... you just look so sad all the time now," she said quietly.

I stood up abruptly. "Of course I look sad all the time!" I yelled. "My entire family is gone!"

She shrunk back slightly. "I'm sorry, Hadrian. I didn't... I didn't mean to... Hadrian," she begged as I turned my back on her. "All I meant was that even though you still smile... it just doesn't look the same as before."

I whipped back around to find her standing close to me. I was shivering from the sudden lack of warmth without the fire and my teeth chattered as I said, "You never saw me smile before."

She refused to look at me as she said, "Yes I have." When she finally looked up, her green eyes were full of embarrassment. I gave her a questioning glance and she shrugged. "You were hard to miss, that's all. Always running through town. My mother used to point you out sometimes, say that you were faster than the marathon runners in the city. But that was back when she still went out. You're faster now." After a moment, she took my silence negatively and kept talking. "I mean, you ran right by my house every day. It's not like I was following you around or anything."

I smirked slightly and she looked relieved. "Sutton, you're ridiculous."

She nudged me playfully and managed a laugh. "How so?"

"Creating this little story to cover for the fact that you definitely did follow me around," I said and pushed her back slightly.

She scoffed. "I just thought it was a bit odd that a boy was constantly running through town."

"Then how about this business about my smile?" I asked, fiddling with the edge of my cloak still draped around her shoulder.

Sutton's cheeks burned bright red as she stumbled around her words. "I would just see you stop and talk to people sometimes. You always laughed so loud and I hardly ever heard laughter at my house... and when you smiled, it touched every part of your face." She was looking up at me distantly, like she had lost her train of thought, and placed a hand on my cheek. "Especially your eyes..." She wiped away a tear I hadn't even known was there with her thumb. "Hadrian Aurelius is what they told me your name was, son of Marcus Aurelius, the gladiator. It broke my heart to find out that you too were destined for the arena," she whispered.

My shivers worsened as her wispy breath hit my face. "Why?" I asked, my teeth chattering harshly.

"Such a carefree young spirit... sentenced to death," she whispered and moved her hand to my neck. I wanted to lean in, I wanted to so bad. But something, some invisible string, was holding me back. And I could tell she sensed it because she didn't make a move, she just gazed steadily up at me. When she noticed my shivers, she wrapped her arms around my waist and pulled me into a tight hug. "I'm sorry for taking your cloak," she said.

I sighed, burying my face in her hair. It was warm and soft and smelled like the honey-soap that my mother and sister used. "It's okay," I mumbled.

Sutton was the one to break our embrace, but she kept her gaze locked on me. "I have to go," she said reluctantly. I led her to the door and she tried again to give me back my cloak.

"You need it more than I do," I reminded her.

She gave me a quick smile before wrapping it tight around her body and walking through the door. But after just a moment, she stuck her head back in and said, "Thank you, Hadrian."

"For what?" I asked, slightly confused by her gratitude.

Sutton kissed my cheek lightly, shocking me with her boldness. "For being my friend," she said, giving me one last smile before disappearing into the frigid night.

* * *

><p>The next morning I woke up to pale sunlight hitting my face. Though it did little to warm me, the light was more than welcome after the last few days of cloudy weather. I pushed myself reluctantly out of bed and pulled on layers of clothing over my head in a vain attempt to stay warm.<p>

My gladius was right where I left it, sitting by the dying embers of the fire. I tried not to look at it too closely because it only opening the slowly healing wound that was dug out by my parents' execution. The memories of my father that resurfaced caused me more pain than I could handle. So I kept my eyes glazed over as I picked up the blade, paying it no special attention. I ignored its weight it my hands.

I strode out of my house and into the training arena. Fortunately, I was the first one there so I had the place to myself, if only for a little while. The redo of our Local Munera was coming up fast, just a day away, and I wasn't even close to being ready to fight.

I pushed myself through the day, avoiding the other men by being as engaged in my training as possible. As usual, the hours dragged on until I could feel the evening chill settling around me. My stomach growled loudly on the way back home, but I hardly noticed. I was too focused on the days ahead of me, and if I was being completely honest, I was too focused on the faint hope that I might get to see Sutton again.

It took me a few minutes to realize how hungry I was, but when I walked through the door and was greeted by the scent of food, my hunger hit me hard. My stomach rumbled and my hand automatically went to it.

Sutton had lit a fire, huge compared to the flickering embers I had been lighting, and she was facing away from me in the kitchen, frying something.

"Sutton?" I asked quietly and she whipped around, flashing me a smile.

"I thought you could use something other than weak tea and cold bread," she said and handed me a plate full of steaming hot food.

"Sutton, you don't have to do this for me," I said between bites.

She shrugged. "You needed a good meal tonight."

I had almost forgotten that my life was about to change yet again tomorrow. My life as a gladiator was just beginning. Suddenly, Sutton's food wasn't so appetizing.

She must have noticed my shoulders sag because she quickly backtracked. "What I meant was, you haven't had a good meal in a while," she said. I faked a smile and set my plate down.

"Thanks, Sutton."

She sat down next to the fire and sighed. "It's impossible to make you smile, isn't it?" she asked.

I gave a small laugh and put my arm around her shoulders. "I wouldn't say that," I said. "You're better at it than you think."

She looked up at me and smiled slightly. "I can only hope."

But I didn't tell her that I had given up on hope.

* * *

><p>[<em><strong>AN**_]: Yeah so I was gonna make up a bunch of excuses as to why I haven't been writing, but truth is, I'm lazy and no one seems to care about this story. So should I just abandon it? Caaause that's probably what's gonna end up happening if I don't get enough feedback.

* * *

><p><em>Regards,<em>

_Camille Elisabeth_


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